


It's Crochet

by bagginshieldhappiness



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Doily thief Thorin, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Oh Thorin, Rated M for thorin's lustful thoughts, There's also groping involved, Thorin is perving over crochet, Thorin mistakes Bilbo's doily for lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagginshieldhappiness/pseuds/bagginshieldhappiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin mistakes Bilbo's doily for lingerie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Crochet

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone remembers the doily porn anon on tumblr, well, that was me. I'm coming out! And I decided to write this short piece to cheer myself up due to never-ending Bagginshield hell. One day I plan to write something serious. But for now, I hope everyone enjoys this bit of ridiculousness.

The hobbit dwelling was oddly shaped yet undeniably cozy. It was also large enough to fit a noisy group of dwarves who'd danced, sang, and eaten their way through the night with an anxious and fretting host in the background who paced through the rounded halls while muttering complaints beneath his breath.

Thorin had watched the hobbit's incessant scurrying with a hint of amusement. The creature was obviously distressed over their arrival, though the dwarf wasn't sure if it was because of their presence alone or the upheaval they'd caused.  He assumed it was the latter. He could see that the hobbit was all about propriety and manners, things which were easily waved away by this rough group. This Bilbo Baggins, as he called himself, seemed torn between wanting to be a respectable and generous host and wanting to fling them through the front door.

It was thoroughly entertaining to observe the conflicting and frustrated expressions that lit across the creature's handsome face. It was a shame that they woudn't be bringing this 'burglar' along on their journey. He was truly a pretty little thing to look at. Far too obsessively clean and gentle to survive in the wild, but he would have been easy on the eyes during a trek through the wilderness that would offer them little time for self indulgence. Everything about him was comely, from his curled hair, to his overly emphasized feet, and even the pointed and delicate ears that Thorin privately found pleasing.

The dwarf could image the shocked and outraged reaction he would receive if he approached the strait-laced little hobbit with those thoughts. He'd probably fume and send Thorin immediately back out into the night for daring to think of something so improper. Still, it didn't stop the dwarf's thoughts from continually straying to their intriguing host throughout their feast.

Once their stomachs were filled and some of their eager energy dissipated the atmosphere grew quieter, likely to the hobbit's immense relief. Stories were shared, a few more songs sung between them, and they smoked and basked in their last moments of rest before morning arrived. Their host was somewhere in an adjacent room and Thorin found his thoughts drifting to him more than once, wondering if he'd fretted himself into a faint at last and whether he'd reappear to fuss some more.

Bofur had gone from the dining room to replenish his drink and returned carrying a strange piece of cloth and a puzzled expression upon his usually cheerful face. "Do you think it's a dish cloth?" he held the delicate item up into the light for everyone to see. It was a white and lacy thing filled with holes that caused murmuring all around.

"That doesn't look like any dish cloth I've ever seen!" Dori exclaimed with a narrowed eyed look of suspicion.

"Looks more like underclothes if you ask me," Nori remarked, and there was a burst of laughter from the others.

"Excuse me, but that is a _doily_ ," the hobbit's voice suddenly interrupted them as he stamped light-footed into the room and snatched it away.

"A doily? What's that?" Bofur questioned, his hand still outstretched as though mourning the loss of the item.

The hobbit sighed as he folded the thin cloth neatly and carefully, and Thorin watched with fascination as hints of color bloomed over the creature's cheeks and up to his ears. "It's crochet," he told them as though that explained everything. "And not something to be sullied by a rowdy band of dwarves!" He made an aggravated sound and then stepped tensely from the room, leaving Thorin's thoughts spiraling.

He wasn't sure what crochet was but it was obvious that this doily was something private and embarrassing for the hobbit to discuss. _"Looks more like underclothes if you ask me,"_ Nori's voice echoed in his mind, and suddenly everything made sense. The dwarf felt distinctly dazed as images of the hobbit wearing such a scant and revealing thing beneath his clothes surfaced through his thoughts. Was he wearing one right now? Had he been wearing it the entire evening?

More than once Thorin had caught a glimpse of the creature's plump and pleasantly rounded arse as he bent over, the thin material of his outfit doing little to hide the temptingly curved outline of his rear. Thorin felt his throat go dry as he pictured the hobbit bent over while wearing nothing but the white lace. The dwarf nearly groaned aloud as he imagined pressing himself against the pert rear of his visions with only a frilly and meager barrier between them. He was going to embarrass himself in front of his own company if this continued further.

With that thought the leader of the group pushed back his chair as he suddenly rose, the scraping sound of wood against the floor catching the attention of the rest. "The hour is late and it's time to retire. We've a long day ahead of us." The others began piling out of their seats and retreated to find the spare rooms that had been reluctantly offered to them during their stay.

As he left the dining area and crossed through the hall Thorin paused when he passed a room that that had several chairs and some shelves filled with books. It appeared to be a sitting room, though that wasn't what captured the dwarf's interest. Set upon one of the shelves was a small stack of white cloth. As he stepped closer he could feel his heart begin to hammer. It was a small and neatly composed pile of the halfling's undergarments on display for anyone passing by to see. He doubted the hobbit had intended to leave them there. Perhaps he'd forgotten to store them away when guests had arrived.

He reached up to run his fingertips over the material. It was smooth and temptingly soft to the touch. It really would be a long journey with little comforts, and surely the halfling wouldn't notice if only one of his undergarments was missing. Ignoring the heat that surfaced over his skin Thorin silently slipped one of the doilies into his inner coat, glancing around to make sure nobody had noticed his thievery. Perhaps _he_ was to be the burglar, he thought with an undercurrent of mirth.

 

At daybreak they left and Thorin cast a single regretful glance back at the hobbit's home before moving onward. It was for the best that the halfling wasn't joining them, he reminded himself firmly. The hobbit would need to have a death wish to join them, so unsuited was he for the wild. He would only slow them down and get himself killed if he'd been mad enough to follow them.

At least now Thorin would have something to remember him by during cold nights.

But things didn't go as planned and to everyone's shock the hobbit did follow after them. _A death wish indeed_ , the leader of dwarves had thought to himself moodily. Although Bilbo Baggins was an attractive sight he very much doubted it would be a sight long lived.

The days following left them rain soaked and downcast. They were a group accustomed to harsh conditions, but that didn't mean any of them enjoyed being soaked to the bone. To make matters worse the nights were bitterly cold and uncomfortable. Bilbo Baggins at least didn't hesitate to make his discomfort known.

Thankfully Thorin's treasure, as he'd begun mentally referring to what he'd taken from the hobbit's shelves, was kept safe and dry beneath his coat. At night he'd take it out it from within his furs and examine it under the moonlight. Sometimes he'd simply stroke the soft material between his fingertips for hours. Whenever he lifted it to his nose to inhale its scent he was reminded sharply of food, herbs, and what he imagined was the smell of gardens and fresh air. That inevitably led his mind to more unseemly things as he thought of their burglar.

He wondered if Bilbo Baggins had worn one of these doilies for their journey or if hobbits had more practical undergarments for adventures such as these. It was his understanding that halflings didn't approve of travel, and their burglar hardly seemed the outdoor type. No, he was a prim little thing that loved handkerchiefs, and he was most surely wearing a doily out in the wilderness.

That knowledge drove the dwarf mad during the day. The way the halfling bounced uncomfortably on his pony made Thorin wish to have him bouncing on his lap instead. In his mind he'd strip the hobbit bare except for the undergarment, pushing it aside just enough so that he could bury himself deeply. He wondered if the burglar would be taken quietly or if he'd moan loudly for all to hear. He'd definitely be loud, the dwarf decided in his fantasies, judging by the way the hobbit never hesitated to complain about something thus far during their quest. He'd like to hear a different type of whining coming from those beautiful lips, and he wanted desperately to make the excitable and surprisingly strong willed little halfling beg for more.

Thoughts such as those often left him flushed and disgruntled. He was going mad with desire for their burglar and there was no way to relieve it. He couldn't very well take himself in hand during broad daylight, and they kept close for warmth and safety during the night. Thorin wouldn't allow himself to be caught in such a vulnerable moment of indulgence by a group who respected him as their leader.

If he was harsh and gruff with the hobbit as a result he couldn't be blamed. After all, the mere sight of Bilbo Baggins made Thorin's mind flood with thoughts of the halfling's cursed undergarments and all of the things he wanted to do to him. He would give himself away if he didn't keep his distance from the burglar.

Yet the dwarf couldn't stop himself from finding excuses to touch the hobbit. Whether it was a brush of shoulders, a hand, an accidental nudge. Or that time when they'd been climbing steep rock and the burglar had begun to slip and fall, and Thorin had guided him the rest of the way up the hill with his hand gripping the hobbit's rear. And then there was the instance when the hobbit hadn't been running fast enough and a firm push to his arse had been needed. It definitely wasn't intentional when Bilbo had been bent over and searching for something he'd dropped in the grass, and Thorin's fingers had accidentally skimmed across his upturned rear held high and tempting in the air. If the dwarf had imagined he could feel the outline of something lacy beneath threadbare clothing, well, that too was unintended.

And if he often caught the burglar looking at him with a confused frown, Thorin honestly wouldn't have an explanation. It wasn't as though he'd made his desires obvious. Nobody but he knew what was kept safely tucked deep within the furs of his coat.

Still, he should've known it would all come crashing down around him eventually.

 

It wasn't until they found shelter in the shape shifter's dwelling that they finally had the luxury of resting for the first time since the beginning of the quest. There was an abundance of food and sunlight, and although Thorin's mind was still focused on their goal he did feel himself relax marginally as everyone's spirits lifted.

Unfortunately that led to a moment of weakness he'd soon regret.

 

It was in the gardens when it happened. Thorin had never before in his life sat in a garden. He would also never admit he was enjoying it to their garden-obsessed burglar.  There was almost something appealing about watching the wind blow through the strange flowers and the tall grasses that surrounded them. Large bees buzzed about and a calm silence clung to everything. It was undeniably soothing to simply sit there in solitude.

It also meant he let his guard down for just a moment and gave in to the temptation to draw out his treasure from its hiding place within his coat. It was the first time he'd examined the small cloth in the sunlight, and he dragged his thumb over each patterned hole reverently.

He became so lost in his daydreams that he didn't realize he was no longer alone.

"Thorin. What is that?" The dwarf's head snapped up in panic from the sound of the familiar voice. Bilbo Baggins was standing directly in front of him and staring at what he held in his hand with a look of pure bafflement. "Is that a doily?"

"I can explain," he spoke roughly, heart clenching with sudden fear. He was aware that his face was beginning to burn with shame. He'd been caught fondling a piece of the hobbit's underclothes. What could he possibly say?

"That's one of mine, isn't it?" Bilbo had stepped closer, eyes wide with recognition of the item. "I recognize the pattern." Now the hobbit was frowning at Thorin. "Why do you have it?"

There was a moment of tense silence before the dwarf let out a defeated breath. "I know how this must look, master Baggins."

"It looks like you enjoy doilies to me," and Bilbo had the audacity to laugh. To actually laugh! "Really Thorin, this is a surprise. I didn't see you as someone with an eye for crochet."

Thorin blinked and stared. The hobbit found humor in this? "It surprised me. That a hobbit would wear something so enticing," he tried stiffly to explain.

The burglar's mirth subsided and hints of bewilderment reappeared on his smooth and handsome features. "Wear? What do you mean?" His brow crinkled attractively.

Thorin glanced away from the sight, flustered yet determined not to back away. He would have to show bravery in this just like any other situation. "I didn't know a hobbit would keep such seductive undergarments. Though it isn't an excuse for what I've done." He cringed, wishing suddenly to be swallowed by the earth below. Bilbo would surely regret jumping in to save him from the warg's clenching jaws now.

There was a painful pause where nothing was said. Thorin finally dared to look at the hobbit again. The burglar's expression held a mix of emotions. "You mean to say.." Bilbo blinked several times as though he could hardly believe what he was about to utter, "That you think I wear doilies as underclothes." Now it was the burglar's turn to blush. "And that you've kept one of my doilies this entire time under the impression that it's my..." He hesitated and shifted uncomfortably, "My undergarment."

The dwarf winced internally.  It sounded even worse when stated like that. "Yes," he confessed lowly. It was too late to deny.

"Oh Thorin," Bilbo murmured quietly, and suddenly another bright laugh filled the air. "Oh Thorin," he said again more loudly this time. "You foolish dwarf! This is absolutely the most absurd thing I've ever heard of in my entire life! A doily as underclothes...  Who ever heard of such a thing!"

There was a gradual sinking feeling deep in his stomach, and he suddenly knew he'd gotten it all wrong. "Then I've misjudged this," he slowly held up the cloth with a pained expression, wanting to be rid of it now that it had proven him a fool.

"Have you ever! They're ornamental. Decorative. Meant to decorate a _table_ , not someone's behind!" Bilbo exclaimed.

"I see," he grumbled darkly as his error was confirmed. His mood was beginning to sour even further as the hobbit couldn't seem to get his laughter under control, when suddenly Bilbo leaned close and a warm kiss was pressed to his bearded cheek. Thorin froze and his breath stopped altogether.

"I'd wear one for you. You only needed to ask," the burglar's voice was suddenly soft, and small fingertips closed over his hand that was still clutching the offending piece of crochet. "Though you've clearly underestimated the size of my rear if you think I'd fit into one alone."

Thorin's heart stuttered and he turned sharply to look at the hobbit. Their faces were close, mouths only a breath away. He didn't see any hint of mockery in Bilbo's warm eyes that were half lidded with a desire reflecting his own. 

He was caught off guard by the sight and he didn't have time to prepare as the hobbit leaned in again and kissed him, this time on the mouth. 

 

Perhaps being a fool wasn't so terrible after all. 


End file.
